Close Every Door to Me
by oboe11
Summary: An SS Colonel shows up to question Hogan with interesting results.
1. Chapter 1

The TV show Hogan's Heroes belongs to Bing Crosby Productions. No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred, and no infringement is intended.

Each chapter starts with lyrics from _Close Every Door to Me_, from the musical _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,_ by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice

_

* * *

Close every door to me_

_Hide all the world from me_

_Bar all the windows and shut out the light_

Colonel Robert Hogan stood at the window of his quarters looking out in the predawn light. Hogan watched the stars fade as the sky brightened beyond the barb wire fence. He'd actually managed to get some sleep for once but still awoke before roll call. He wasn't use to the luxury of 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Finally, there had been no mission the night before, so he'd had nothing better to do then go to bed at lights out.

London had been keeping them busy for weeks, often with overlapping missions that had taxed the resources of the men trying to juggle a hundred details at once and still get everything accomplished successfully without exposing the Operation to the Nazis. Tempers were becoming short throughout the camp as long days and little sleep caught up with them. Combined with the end of another long winter, spring fever was making everyone antsy and fights were starting to break out all over camp. Escape was coming to the forefront of everyone's minds.

Hogan sighed as his gaze again focused on the dawn. The stress of running the Operation and keeping the camp in order was stretching him to the limit lately. Small pleasures that helped him relax seemed to get pushed to the back burner as more pressing issues demanded his attention. He'd had to forego his usual chess games with Klink due to both the Kommandant being overworked and his schedule being packed. It was a mixed blessing as he then didn't have to make excuses to Klink to cover why he didn't have a couple of hours to spare but it also didn't give him a chance to unwind. Adding to the tension was the fact that the mail call had been non-existent of late, leaving the men bereft of the few comforts of home allowed in this dismal place.

This winter had been incredibly difficult, with 2 major outbreaks of pneumonia and a 3 week food shortage. Several men had not made it though. Then there were the daily occurrences of frostbite and hypothermia due to insufficient clothing and heating. Hogan had had to bargain for every stick of wood from Klink just to keep the stoves lit. The bitter cold had forced the men to stay inside for extended periods, giving everyone frayed nerves and cabin fever. If it hadn't been for the missions, everyone would have gone stir crazy. Newkirk even swore that one more game of gin would send him over the deep end.

Hogan shook his head to dispel the gloomy thoughts. He had to believe that staying here and keeping the Operation going was important – crucial even – to the outcome of the war. He wondered if London would consider giving them a summer vacation – a little jaunt to the beach would do wonders for morale.

Hogan broke into a wistful smile as his thoughts drifted home, remembering hot summer days when the whole family would pile in the car and drive to the beach. Endless hours of playing in the sand, making castles or finding sea shells, and chasing waves back to the sea. The picnic lunches mom had packed were amazing and no matter how hungry he and his brothers got from all their adventures, there always seemed to be tons of food.

As the sun silently broke over the horizon, Hogan could hear the guards starting their rounds. Soon the call of "Raus! Raus!" from Schulz could be heard in the outer room, snapping him out of his reverie. Hogan felt the mantle of command wrap heavily around his shoulders as he turned away from the window and went out to face another day behind the wire of Stalag 13, wishing he was anywhere but here.


	2. Chapter 2

_Do what you want with me_

_Hate me and laugh at me_

_Darken my daytime and torture my night_

"Mon Colonel, staff car pulling up in front of Klink's office."

"Thanks, Lebeau." Hogan stood up from his desk where he was attempting to write another letter home. The letters somehow seemed easier to write when he was lying about his activities in camp. Hogan grabbed his crush cap and followed the Frenchman out to the compound. By the time he joined the rest of the guys at the bench outside the door, Klink was already on the porch of the Kommandantur building and his visitor was getting out of the car with a pair of guards. The two officers saluted each other and Klink ushered his guest back inside with the guards trailing behind.

"Looked like an SS uniform to me," commented Kinch as he leaned against the building.

"Yep. Full Colonel too if I made out his insignia right," added Hogan.

"Wonder what he's doing here?" asked Carter as he fiddled with his baseball.

"I'm guessin' that we won't have long to wait to find out. 'Ere comes Schultzie, to get ya gov'na," observed Newkirk.

"Alright, everyone play it cool and get on the coffeepot," instructed Hogan. "This is likely another one of those 'Show off the cowed POW' circuses Klink likes to put me through, but keep on your toes. It's been fairly quiet above ground lately – something interesting might be happening," he warned.

As Hogan crossed the compound to meet Schultz half way, his demeanor changed from serious, don't-mess-with-me Colonel to cocky, happy-go-lucky American.

"Hiya, Schultz! Who's the hot shot in Klink's office?" Hogan grinned, as he tipped his crush cap back on his head.

"Colonel Hogan, his name is Oberst Norbert and I am to come to get you ASAP," Schulz replied as the men met and headed towards Klink's office.

"Any idea what he wants?"

"Nein, but if it is SS, it can't be good!" Schultz paused to open the door to Klink's office. "Herr Kommandant! Colonel Hogan is here as requested," he announced as Hogan followed the Sergeant into the room.

"Thank you Schultz. Diisss-missed! Colonel Hogan, may I present Colonel Norbert of the SS," Klink almost bounced off his chair with nervous energy as he rose from behind his desk to meet his Senior POW officer. Hogan stopped in front of the desk as Klink continued, "He's here to see YOU!" Klink's finger emphasized his point by hitting Hogan in the middle of his chest.

"Me? What have I done to deserve that honor?" Hogan asked innocently, eyebrows climbing to meet the dark lock of hair that fell across his forehead.

"You were captured," came the terse reply from his left. Hogan turned to the sound of the voice and was face-to-face with the SS Colonel. A tall man, Norbert had a few inches on Hogan and as such could look down his nose at him. A feathering of grey at Norbert's temples told Hogan the Colonel had a few years on him too. Beyond that, Norbert looked every bit the proud German officer. Fit, not overweight, broad-shouldered, with hard steel blue eyes, he stood straight with an almost aristocratic air. He was a member of the so-called 'master race' and he filled the requirements to a T.

Norbert's cool blue eyes met and held Hogan's bright brown ones. Hogan met his stare, a contest of wills beginning as each sized up the other, daring each other to blink first. The silence in the room grew thick with tension and even Klink stood still watching the two enemy officers. Then, Norbert's eyes narrowed, hardening into icy grey.

"Take him to the cooler. I will question him there." The sudden announcement broke the silence and the duel between the two men. Norbert motioned to his two guards who stepped forward from their places by the office window to grab Hogan's arms and handcuff them behind his back.

"Now just a minute! Kommandant, I protest! Under the Geneva Convention…"

"SILENCE!" thundered Norbert, cutting off Hogan's plea to Klink. "You are nothing but a lowly American and unworthy of being a prisoner of the glorious Third Reich. You have no rights here," Norbert sneered. He made a quick motion with his hand. "Guards!"

At Norbert's command, the two guards tightened their grip on Hogan's arms and started to forcibly drag him from the room.

"Alright! Alright! I'm coming. Let's not get pushy!" Klink heard Hogan's comments fade as he was left standing alone in his office with his mouth hanging open in shock.


	3. Chapter 3

_If my life were important I_

_Would ask if I'd live or die_

_But I know the answers lie far from this world_

Hogan awoke to the dark, cold dampness of the solitary confinement cell. He stirred slightly and instantly regretted the movement. Everything hurt. One name floated in his consciousness and made him see red.

Norbert.

The bastard had thrown every question in the book at him. Name, rank, serial number. Those were easy. Expected even. Then there was birth date, birth place, mother's name, childhood friends… Hogan didn't understand what the Colonel could have wanted with that information but refused to give it anyway. Last posting, commander's name, details of his last combat mission… that information was years old, it would have been worthless to the Germans but he had withheld it anyhow. Stripped of his warm bomber jacket and crush cap, Hogan had been made to sit on a hard metal chair with his hands cuffed behind his back. For hours the questions had gone round and round until he had been too hoarse to even repeat his own name. For every question he didn't answer there had been pain – a punch to the gut, a slap across his face, a jab to his kidneys, a blow to his ribs, a crack across his shoulders, a strike to his knees… until finally he couldn't hold on to consciousness any longer.

Gingerly, Hogan began to move, taking stock of his injuries. Surprisingly, nothing appeared broken, only bruised. The SS were masters of inflicting pain but not damage. Before long he had loosened enough of his muscles to sit up and lean against the cell wall, although it took most of his energy to complete the effort. He leaned his head forward onto his arms propped on his raised knees and closed his eyes. Soon, he was drifting to sleep…

Hogan awoke to the jangle of keys in the lock. The door crashed open and light from the hallway flooded the cell, blinding the prisoner. Hogan raised his arm to shield his face, barely able to see through watering eyes the two guards who entered. Oberst Norbert followed them in. Before Hogan could react, one of the guards grabbed his arm and extended it, while Norbert quickly stepped forward to inject him with a needle.

"What was that?" Hogan asked, rubbing the painful injection site. One thing was for certain, the German Colonel was no Red Cross nurse!

"Just a little something to help you sleep. Now just lay back and enjoy your nap while we take a short trip," replied Norbert.

Cold dread surged through Hogan as his head started to spin from the drug. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I've never been fond of any of my German travel agents. Where are we going?" he asked.

"You've been injured. A short stay in the hospital is necessary," replied Norbert smugly.

"No! Really, I'm feeling much better now. Just a little rest and I'll be fine. Maybe a little bread and water… All set for another interrogation session. Trust me! Hospitals aren't necessary…" Hogan's protests faded as he collapsed and succumbed to sleep.

The guards fetched a stretcher from the hall, loaded the unconscious Colonel on it, and took him out to the waiting truck.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for all the reviews. This is my first full length story. It's probably not realistic in some parts, but I hope you find it entertaining.

_

* * *

__Close every door to me_

_Keep those I love from me_

_Children of Israel are never alone_

Hogan awoke once more, this time unsure of his surroundings. He let his eyelids part a fraction to scan the room. When he was certain he was alone, he opened them fully to take a good look at where he was. Definitely a hospital room. It was sparsely decorated, with only his bed and a tiny bedside table as the furniture. The walls were a pale yellow and the one window was small with bars on it. The floor was tile. There was only one door. There was no clock.

Hogan tried to move his arms to stretch and realized something else. He was in restraints. Not just arms but legs too, keeping him immobile on the bed. An IV ran from his right hand. Following the tubing, he craned his head to see the bottle stand over his shoulder at the head of the bed.

Judging by the light from the window, it was either early morning or late afternoon since he didn't know which direction his window faced. He considered how long he'd been out and what they'd done to him. He didn't seem to hurt which was surprising, given the interrogation session he'd just been through. A little achy around his face but the rest of his body seemed much improved over when he awoke in the cell at Stalag 13. The thought of how much pain medication he could be on crossed his mind although his thoughts seemed clear and not fuzzy in any way. He resigned himself to waiting for someone to check on him, reminding himself not to panic over his loss of control of the situation and of his loss of free movement. He wondered what was going on back at camp – if the guys had been told what was happening, if they had been interrogated too, or if they had folded up the operation and escaped. Hopefully, they weren't planning any crazy rescue mission, even if they did know his location. He had enough to worry about without adding them to the list.

Before long, the door to his room opened and a tall, thin, blonde man in a white lab coat entered followed by Colonel Norbert who was carrying a briefcase.

"Guten tag! I see someone is finally awake. I am Herr Dr. Graf. How are you feeling?" the blonde man asked as he approached the bed and checked the Colonel's eyes with a pen light. Hogan didn't reply but instead studied the ceiling above him through the spots in his eyes and ground his teeth. He hated doctors and he wasn't in any mood to talk to this Kraut one.

"Not a very talkative one you have here Herr Oberst, but no matter. You are looking well. I don't think you'll need this any more," the doctor added as he took the IV out of Hogan's arm and applied a band-aid. "There! Now I'll just leave you two to get reacquainted." The doctor bustled about for a few moments before exiting the room.

"Colonel Hogan." Norbert approached the bed. "I suppose you have a few questions. I'll answer as many as I can."

Hogan looked at Norbert out of the corner of his eyes. This was an entirely different man than the one at Stalag 13. Oh he looked the same, but his whole attitude was 180 degrees from the man who interrogated him for hours on end. Not trusting Norbert for a minute, Hogan began testing the truth of the Oberst's statement.

"Where am I?"

"You are at a private hospital in Stuttgart. One that caters entirely to, shall we say 'State Affairs'?"

Hogan took that at face value. He had no way of proving it one way or the other – until he escaped. "What day is it?" he continued.

"It's Tuesday, July 27th – 19 days since I first arrived at Stalag 13 to question you." Norbert left his briefcase beside the bed and casually walked across the room to look out the window.

_Nineteen days!_ Hogan thought as his jaw dropped in shock. No wonder I don't feel sore any more. They must have been keeping me sedated the whole time I've been here. The bile rose in this throat as he contemplated being at the Germans' mercy for 19 days without his knowledge. Medical experimentation on prisoners, while against the Geneva Convention, was not unheard of in the Third Reich.

Norbert turned and peered over his shoulder at the man in the bed. He could see him thinking, mulling over what he'd been told, and trying to control the terror at the thought of what could have been done to him during those missing 19 days.

"Who are you? Why am I here? What do you want from me?" Hogan fired the questions rapidly as the anger he was feeling started to creep into his voice while he watched the man across the room.

Norbert crossed to Hogan's bed. Working on the restraints, Norbert freed both of Hogan's hands but left his feet shackled. "Before you get any bright ideas, there are 3 guards with rifles and Lugers right outside the door. This is also a high security facility with an electrified fence, guard dogs, and security checkpoints. You won't get 10 feet down the hall." He paused, looking Hogan in the eye to make sure he understood that escape wasn't an option. "Now, have a look…"

Hogan took the mirror that Norbert had produced from the bedside table and looked at himself. No – not himself! The man staring back at him was blonde with short hair and a moustache. His nose a little thicker than Hogan's, his chin more prominent. His eyebrows were lighter in color and thinner, his cheekbones more pronounced. Hogan gasped as he realized he was looking at his own reflection – but not his own face!

"What have you done to me?" he whispered, as he brought his hand up to feel the changes to his appearance, not believing his own eyes.

"We needed to change you. As far as the world is concerned, you are no longer Colonel Robert E Hogan of the US Army Air Corps. That man was the Senior POW Officer of Luft Stalag 13. He was interrogated by the SS and removed from the camp to be relocated to a more secure installation. We would have spread the story that we executed you, but in case you actually survive this mission, we had to have a way for you to return to Stalag 13 to continue your work with the Underground. You were chosen for this assignment because your facial structure was the closest match that we could find in any of our current operatives. I'll be filling you in on your mission over the next couple of days. For tonight, all you need to know is your new name – Oberst Bernard von Richter of the Luftwaffe."

Hogan was overwhelmed. They had taken his entire identity – no, his whole life! – away from him. He slowly looked up to Norbert as one thing registered through everything he had been told: "Bernard?" he grimaced.

"Ironically, it means 'brave bear'," smiled Norbert. "Here's your current service record." Norbert reached for a folder from the briefcase and handed it to Hogan. "I suggest you get to know yourself and get some rest. You'll need it in the next few days. You have a lot to learn. I'll be back in the morning, Herr Oberst. Heil Hitler!"

And with that, Norbert saluted, turned on his heel and quickly left the hospital room, leaving a very uncertain Hogan to stare at the door as it closed, alone with his thoughts and the face in the mirror…


	5. Chapter 5

_For I know I shall find_

_My own peace of mind_

_For I have been promised a land of my own_

Hogan spent a restless night,contemplating Norbert's motives, adjusting to his new physical appearance, and reading up on his new persona.

Morning found Hogan once again in the company of the SS Oberst.

"Here, put this on," Norbert handed Hogan a Luftwaffe Oberst uniform with a chest full of medals. "You've been discharged and we need to get moving. We have to be there by 11:00 and it will take 3 hours at least with the checkpoints. I'll brief you and answer your questions while we're on the road."

"Where are we going this time?" Hogan paused before dressing to look at Norbert.

"Not here – once we're underway, I promise. The walls tend to grow ears in these types of facilities."

"What's to keep me from escaping once we're clear of the hospital?" Hogan asked as he began putting on the clothes.

"Your curiosity, sense of duty and the realization that you'll never get your true identity back without me. If you show up at Stalag 13 or even back in London as you are, no one is going to believe you're Robert Hogan. It won't take them long to match your identity with a highly decorated German war hero. They'll either shoot you or put you in an Allied POW camp for the duration of the war. They certainly won't trust you."

Realizing the truth of Norbert's statement, Hogan quickly finished donning his new uniform and stopped to adjust his tie in the mirror. _Can't get used to that face_, he thought, although he'd spent most of the previous evening gazing at it. He'd worn disguises for several of the team's operations but never of this magnitude. The sudden thought that it might be permanent sent a quick shiver down his spine.

Once done, Norbert and Hogan headed out of the hospital to the waiting car. The driver cleared the facility security check and threaded his way through the local traffic. Norbert remained silent throughout the trip. Hogan waited, watching the streets go by as townspeople began opening shops to start the day. Clearing the city, the car headed east and Norbert relaxed enough to start to speak.

"We're headed to a top secret air field southeast of Coburg. It's been able to remain in existence due to reluctance by the British to bomb the home of Prince Albert who was married to Queen Victoria. Germany's brightest aeronautics engineers have been working on developing a new fighter plane and the prototype squadron is ready for its shake-down flights. The Luftwaffe is gathering its best pilots for the first crews. The tests are scheduled to begin the day after tomorrow. Von Richter is to be the squadron commander."

"There's got to be something really special about these planes for you to go to all this trouble of getting me here. You do realize that I was a bomber pilot, not a fighter pilot, when I was shot down?" replied Hogan, his curiosity piqued, yet starting to wonder how he was going to pull this off.

"True but your training over your Air Corps career has been quite extensive. I am sure that you'll be able to 'get the hang of it' as you say. After all, you have logged air time in Spitfires, Mustangs and Hurricanes, just not combat time.

"As for the planes, the prototypes are 4 times faster than any plane in existence right now and are incredibly agile in the air. They are also capable of a greater range of distance. The Fuehrer is expecting your report in 2 weeks and based on that, he'll decide if the program is a go or not. Of course, the Allies wish it to be 'or not'. You can imagine how devastating these new planes will be. In initial testing, the regular Luftwaffe could hardly catch up with them, let alone bring one down. Put a couple of full squadrons up there and it could turn the tide of the war – and not in the Allies favor."

"Wait a minute – I have to make a report to Old Scramble Brains himself?"

"Rest assured it's only a paper report. Oh, one more thing. London would like a copy of the schematics, test reports, etc. – anything they could use to get some planes of this caliber in the air themselves."

"Right – I'm sure they'll just hand those over to me in a snap! Yeah, I'll figure out how to get those later." Hogan waved off the impossibility of the request. His head was swimming with details and he could feel a headache coming on.

"You should be happy – you get to fly again," commented Norbert as he shifted to relax more in the seat. "And not in some patched-up old bomber either. I think I would envy you, if I was a pilot."

"Yeah, it'll be sweet to be airborne again. Didn't think I'd get a chance to fly again before the war ended. Although it does bother me a little that it's for the other side."

"Only partially. You are gathering incredibly important information for the Allies that could stop the Germans from winning the war. You're undercover, not turned traitor." Norbert paused and looked at Hogan, "So you're accepting the mission?"

Hogan snorted. "Like I had a choice after all this?" He waved a hand in front of his face. "You know," he continued, "I would have accepted if you had of brought this information to me ahead of time. You didn't need to go to such lengths to force me into it."

"It had to be believable – your reactions, the justified removal from Stalag 13 – this is so hush-hush that only half a dozen people in London even know about it."

"At least I could have prepared my men."

"The less they know the better."

"Humph. That's your opinion." Switching topics, Hogan asked "So what happened to the original Von Richter?"

"I just received word yesterday that we've got him safely under wraps and on his way to England. You won't have to worry about running into him."

"Just yesterday? That's cutting it a little close don't ya think?"

"Von Richter was on leave for two weeks prior to reporting to this new assignment. We captured him as he was beginning his trip to Coburg so that your arrival times would appear correct."

"What about acquaintances of his? Any chance of running into anyone on base that he knows?"

"No. We did a thorough background check and transferred out anyone that might have had a chance to know the Oberst."

"One thing I still don't understand. During the interrogation, what was with the questions about my parents and childhood?"

"Even though you didn't respond out loud, asking the questions caused you to think about the answers. I realize that home and your loved ones are never far from your thoughts but I wanted you to actively remember before we took your identity away from you." Norbert paused and grinned a little, "Besides, I was running out of questions…"

Norbert lapsed into silence for a few minutes as the car entered the outskirts of Bamberg. The car weaved its way through the city streets, finally stopping in front of a massive3 storey building that served as SS Headquarters.

"This is where I take my leave," Norbert said as he started to get out of the vehicle. "The driver will carry on taking you to the air field. Showing up with an SS escort might seem more than a little suspicious."

"How will I contact you?"

"This has a radio contact on it, plus identification code. I trust you will see to its proper disposal?" At Hogan's nod, Norbert stepped out of the car, turned and, just before closing the door, poked his head back in to add "Good luck."


	6. Chapter 6

_Just give me a number_

_Instead of a name_

_Forget all about me and let me decay_

A week later, things were going well. Hogan had arrived at the facility and met with the base commander. No one questioned who he was. He'd settled into his quarters, had a tour of the hangers and buildings, and met with the test pilots and ground crews. On the ground, he was Oberst von Richter, Luftwaffe Flying Ace, Hero of the Fatherland. In the sky, he was Blue Leader 1. It was amazing how quickly he adjusted back into the role of squadron commander. It wasn't all that different from commanding the 504th in England on the surface, although on a much smaller scale; however he didn't allow himself to become friendly with any of the men under his command. None of them would become one of 'his boys'. That was ok as the Germans seemed to prefer a more detached command style. He could overlook the uniforms and speaking German all the time was becoming natural but he still couldn't stomach the 'Heil Hitler' and had to remember to throw it in occasionally with the salute. He had a briefing with the airplane designers and went through the blue prints and design specifications. He didn't have copies for London yet, but he now knew where they were stored for when the time was right. He'd even managed a pre-test flight to get a feel for the craft before the official tests.

That had been a joy. Soaring high above the ground, the lush green country side rolling past below, it was easy to forget the war going on and the dangerous mission he was on. Being in a Luftwaffe plane, he could fly over Germany in broad daylight without worrying that someone would try to shoot him down. He flew over the red-tile roofed housesin the villages and the lush green forests surrounding Coburg and gradually went farther afield. Before he realized it, he was over Hammelburg and Stalag 13, circling, doing a little reconnaissance and trying to catch a glimpse of his team. He had dipped his wings when he flew over the camp in a salute, even knowing the gesture would be snubbed by the POWs and cheered by the guards as the plane with the large swastikas on the sides went by. He hoped the guys had managed to keep the operation continuing despite his current assignment. Had London sent a replacement for him? He'd been away from camp for almost a month now.

Hogan had reviewed the testing schedule with the base commander and project leader at the end of last week. There were 5 prototypes. Each plane had a 2 man crew with a pilot and co-pilot/gunner. The planes were to serve as escort and protector of bomber wings, having been designed to be agile in the air, fast, and be able to out-maneuver the Allied fighter planes. Over the past couple of days, the planes had been running through a series of tests designed to find the limits of the new aircraft. Hogan had been impressed. The new planes were even better in the air then they had seemed on paper, which had him extremely worried for the Allied Air Forces. He had already sent a preliminary report to Berlin, one full of lies about fuel inefficiency, lack-luster performance in the air, and minor defects exaggerated into major design flaws. Having full access to the base, he'd also managed to throw in a little sabotage without arousing suspicion, to emphasize the faults in his report.

Knowing that test flights and war-game simulations were scheduled for every day the next week, Hogan decided to make his move on getting the schematics. That night, Hogan managed to bypass security once again and fill several rolls of film with pictures of plane and engine diagrams. These he secured inside his flak jacket so that he would have them with him if the opportunity to bail out during a simulation presented itself. Once on the ground, he could contact the Underground and get the film to London. It also bought him extra security in case his belongings on base were ever searched while he was in the air.

The next day found Hogan participating in war-games, his super squadron vs. a regular Luftwaffe Messerschmitt squad. 'Von Richter' was an Ace in the air, swooping, diving, and engaging the Luftwaffe like they were the true enemy. Scoring several 'kills', the adrenalin rush filled Hogan with satisfaction and a brief feeling of revenge against those who had shot him down 18 months ago. It was healing in a way, being able to finally fight back without having the taking of more lives to add to his conscience.


	7. Chapter 7

_I do not matter_

_I'm only one person_

_Destroy me completely then throw me away_

The final report to Berlin was complete after the last 4 days of battle simulations. Overall, Hogan was pleased with the way the mission was going so far. It hadn't been a cake-walk, but he had managed to do everything Norbert had required without raising any suspicion at all. Now, he had to make plans for returning to the right side of the war. Just one more test flight to fly, contact Norbert, and he was out of here with no one the wiser...

Exiting the hanger, Hogan paused to look at the night sky. It was clear, with stars twinkling overhead and a bomber's moon. Hogan took a deep breath of the fresh night air and finished doing up his flak jacket, subconsciously rubbing the spot where the packet of film was hidden inside. The thought of returning 'home' to Stalag 13 warmed him. He found himself missing the camaraderie of his team and strangely enough, only having to fool Klink and Schultz when necessary, instead of the entire base every second of the day. Two weeks of being deeply undercover and in the heart of the enemy had taken a toll, and he was looking forward to getting back to being himself. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him – the night before this mission started, he wanted to be anywhere but at Stalag 13. _Be careful what you wish for Rob, you just might get it!_

He headed out across the airfield to his plane, meeting his co-pilot/gunner Lt. Grier on the tarmac. Climbing into the craft, Hogan felt his nerves to be on edge tonight for some reason. Performing all the regular pre-flight checks and seeing nothing amiss, 'von Richter' quickly got clearance from the base tower and got his squad up into the air. Swiftly gathering into formation, the Blue Team test planes headed out to the rendezvous with the Red Team Messerschmitt squadron for the last round of testing.

Arriving at the designated co-ordinates, 'von Richter' got the two teams into position for the simulation. Just before issuing the command to begin the mock battle, Hogan's radio crackled to life.

"Red and Blue teams, this is Control. You are being diverted. Cancel testing run. Repeat: Cancel testing run. Allied Bomber squadron spotted approaching Hamberg. Divert and engage. Do you copy?"

Bile rose in the back of his throat as a ten pound weight settled in Hogan's stomach on hearing the message relayed. The simulation had just turned real. His hands turned cold and clammy and he clenched the controls as a sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. One thought hit him like a bucket of cold water: he was wearing a German uniform, pretending to be a German officer, flying a German plane and was expected to defend Germany by shooting down Allied planes.

In the back of his mind he heard the Red Team Leader acknowledge the order, but Hogan was frozen, his mind not processing the orders, wondering how he was going to get out of this one without being court-marshaled and shot for Treason by either the Luftwaffe or US Air Corps.

"Blue Leader 1, do you copy?" Control was prompting him again for a response.

Shaking off the numbness that had settled in his brain, Hogan reached for the comm. "Blue Leader 1, acknowledged. Diverting to Hamberg..."


	8. Chapter 8

_If my life were important I_

_Would ask if I'll live or die_

_But I know the answers lie far from this world_

The flight from the test coordinates to Hamberg was altogether too short, especially when Hogan had spent most of the time waiting for his normally quick-thinking brain to catch up with the crazy mess he now found himself in. Hanging back, not only to observe but also to try and come up with a plan, he saw the skirmish start to intensify as the Red and Blue Teams joined in the other Luftwaffe planes already there.

The Allied bombers hadn't come alone. American Mustangs were already engaging the Messerschmitts, trying to protect their B-17s while they readied for their bombing run. The air was heavy with flak, both from the fighter planes above and anti-aircraft guns below.

Hogan knew this was going to be tricky flying. Having a co-pilot/gunner meant that he couldn't freely shoot at the German planes without great risk to himself, especially if he hoped to return to the airbase. Plus, he knew that he was considered fair game by the Allies who did not know that he was technically a 'friendly'. The swastikas on the fuselage made Hogan feel like someone had painted bullseyes on his back.

Joining the fray, he started after a Mustang at 2:00 and gave chase. His co-pilot, Grier, targeted the American plane, but at the last second, Hogan jerked the plane, under the pretense of imminent attack by Allies, causing the shots to go wide. Another Mustang got him in his sights. Evading the retaliation, Hogan peeled right and swooped into the path of a bomber. Grier let fly with the guns, but Hogan shifted the plane so that the bomber only received a couple of rounds before being out of range.

Again, Hogan took off after another Mustang to keep up his German allegience charade, only this time he banked left as Grier shot, causing the rounds to go over the Allied plane into a Messerschmitt that was closing behind. Smoke came out of the Red Team plane and soon chutes appeared as the pilots ejected.

As Hogan came round again, he saw that the other Germans hadn't been idle. One bomber was in serious trouble, spouting fire as it crashed into the landscape below. A couple of Mustangs looked like they were about to meet the same fate. Many parachutes were seen in the air, both German and Allied. Red Team was down three planes, one courtesy of Hogan, but Blue Team was still at full strength. As Hogan had feared, nothing could touch these new planes in the air.

Meanwhile, the bombers had acquired their target and started dropping hundreds of bombs onto the factory below. The area erupted into a ball of fire and a thunderous explosion filled the air. Caught in a shock wave, Hogan turned his plane to ride out the worst of the turbulence. This brought him directly inline with an Allied bomber. Wasting no time, Grier let loose a volley of rounds into the fuselage, large holes appearing where the bullets connected. Unable to react fast enough, Hogan watched in horror as the cockpit was ripped apart, followed by the gunnery port and down to the tail of the aircraft. The helpless bomber went into a swift nosedive, spiraling out of control.

_No! No! No!_ Hogan screamed in his mind as he watched the plane go down, praying for parachutes to appear as horror numbed his body and clutched his heart. His mind flashed back to when Goldilocks was shot down, both reliving the experience and meshing it with what was going on in the bomber descending before his eyes. _Come on, guys, come on! Where are the chutes? Please, God…_ Hogan was mesmerized, watching the helpless plane as it continued to fall out of the sky, reaching the point where chutes would be useless, and then finally saw it crash into the landscape below, erupting in flames. Hogan knew there would be no survivors.

"Kerbe eine für die guten Kerle!" Hogan winced as he automatically translated Grier's excited and enthusiastic words 'Score one for the good guys'. _Good guys indeed_. Hogan finally wrenched his eyes away from the bomber's wreckage and said a silent prayer for the souls of the Allied men he'd just killed. _Traitor…_ the thought whispered through his mind as the guilt wrapped itself around his conscience.

There was no time to grieve. Suddenly, an American Mustang rose into the air before Hogan's plane, guns blazing. By this time, the Allied bombers had turned and were starting their return to England. The battle had drifted eastwards and was approaching the sky over Hammelburg. The Mustangs were still providing cover, doggedly trying to down the new super fighters that were decimating the Allies. Hogan wheeled his plane around, denying both Grier and the Mustang a shot at each other.

The adrenalin pumping through Hogan's body finally kicked his overtaxed brain into gear and a plan started to form loosely in his mind. Knowing that he had all the intelligence on the new planes with him, and that he was close to Hammelburg, Hogan decided that the best course of action for him at the moment was to get the film to the boys at Stalag 13 to send to London. Norbert was an unknown quantity and Hogan knew that Kinch and the guys would get the plans to England without question. Then he only had to trust Norbert to restore his identity. If he didn't, well, Hogan would deal with that later, but at least the plans would be delivered safely into the right hands.

Turning the plane around, Hogan engaged the Mustang before it decided to turn tail back to England with the bombers. Judging his timing carefully, Hogan tried to make sure the Mustang was unscathed while his plane bore the brunt of the attack. Bullets strafed the wings, narrowly avoiding the engines and instant destruction. The two planes dived and weaved, each targeting the other with little success.

Suddenly, a hail of bullets smashed though the canopy of Hogan's plane, spraying him with glass and killing Grier instantly. Hogan knew that the time was right. As the Mustang made another pass, he steered the plane into the path of bullets, causing them to impact with his tail rudder and wing flaps. Losing control of navigation, Hogan knew the plane was going down and quickly ejected. As the plane continued its death glide into the ground, Hogan couldn't help but think _Make that one for the good guys!_

A sense of déjà vu washed over Hogan as his parachute drifted silently through the night and into the trees near Hammelburg. As he watched the Allies head back to England and the remains of his former German squad return to base, one thought crossed the back of his mind, _I've got to quit flying over Hamberg..._


	9. Chapter 9

_Close every door to me_

_Keep those I love from me_

_Children of Israel are never alone_

"Listen up guys," Kinch gathered Newkirk, Lebeau, and Carter around the table in Barrack 2. "London sent a message. There's a bombing run over Hamberg tonight to knock off that new munitions plant we scoped out last week. Odds are good that any planes that the Krauts shoot down will end up close to here. We need to go out and retrieve as many downed fliers as we can find."

"Gee, a command performance. What'll I wear?" grinned Carter as he and the others headed for the tunnels.

"Well, it seems to me that all the runways in Paree are showing basic black for flier rescues this year, don't you concur Lebeau?"

"Ha, ha, Pierre. You wouldn't know haut couture if you tripped over the model wearing it," replied Louis as he donned his black sweater and pants.

"Alright, let's get a move on. The attack is scheduled for 22:00 and it's almost that now." Kinch urged everyone out of the tunnels via the tree stump and into the forest beyond.

Creeping around the edge of a clearing, the men silently watched the skies overhead for signs of parachutes. Suddenly, there was a distant rumble like thunder and the ground vibrated for a few seconds.

"Cross one munitions plant off the list!" whispered Kinch to the others.

"Wow!" cried Carter. "That must have been some explosion if we felt it here all the way from Hamberg. I bet it was a big kapowee, like with clouds of fire and everything!" Carter's voice kept getting louder and more excited as he started describing the explosion he pictured in his minds' eye.

"Shh! Do you want the whole German army to hear you!" admonished Lebeau.

"Come on, let's 'ead a bit further west. We'll be able to see better once we clear this part o' the woods," suggested Newkirk.

As the trees began to thin, the heroes could hear the drone of planes overhead interspersed with weapons fire.

"Sounds like a pretty heavy dogfight going on up there," said Kinch. "Let's split up to cover more ground. Meet back here in an hour. Lebeau, Carter, head left to the southwest while Newkirk and I'll head northwest. And be careful. We don't know how many patrols are out here doing the same thing."

"Watch your backs too. Come on Carter. This way," replied Lebeau, pointing the way.

Kinch and Newkirk turned silently and headed northwest. They had been walking about 20 minutes, keeping an eye out overhead for any action, when an Allied and German plane became visible. Swooping and diving, the two planes did aerial acrobatics, each strafing each other with bullets.

"'eads up. We've got a live pair overhead," pointed out Newkirk. "We're sure sticking it to the Jerries. That Kraut pilot couldna hit the broad side of a barn. He's completely missing our Mustang."

"That's weird. Watch carefully. It's almost like the Germans are trying to miss!" replied Kinch.

"Did you see that? That Kraut must a had a death wish or somethin'. Right balmy 'e was. He turned right into the path of the Mustang's fire."

"There's a chute. Looks like he'll be landing just about at the rendezvous site. The Allies are returning home. Guess we won't be having any guests tonight. Maybe Lebeau and Carter had more luck. Let's get back to the meeting place and avoid anyone coming to pick up our Kraut friend up there."

"I'm for that mate. And me nice comfy bunk not far behind. This traipsing around in the dark's been a big waste o' time." Newkirk headed back the way they had come, keeping an ear out for German patrols that were, in all probability, starting to surround the area.

The forest was thinning out again as they neared the rendezvous spot. Kinch and Newkirk were skirting the edge of a clearing when they suddenly heard a bird call – the recognition signal Colonel Hogan used regularly when out on missions.

Wide-eyed, Newkirk and Kinch looked at each other and tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. The Colonel had been gone from camp for a more than a month now. At first, the guys had tried everything to find out what had happened to their leader. The Underground spies at SS Headquarters reported that Hogan never arrived with Oberst Norbert. Nor had they been able to discover if he'd been sent to another Stalag or delivered into the hands of the Gestapo. They were more than willing and able to mount a rescue, but they had no clue as to where he'd been taken. Hogan's trail went cold the moment he'd been taken from camp. Now, to hear his signal in the middle of the Hammelburg forest after an air strike was more than a little disconcerting. Hope flared inside Kinch and Newkirk, but they were still experienced enough to remain wary of a trap.

Hearing the call again to their left, the two men drew their guns, split up and circled the area. Newkirk gave his answering call, sidling up to the tree where a shadowy figure leaned against the trunk.

"Newkirk? That had better be you," the voice came out of the darkness.

"Gov'na? What the bloody blue blazes are you doing here in the middle of the woods?" Recognizing Hogan's voice, Newkirk holstered his gun and turned to face the man in the dark.

"Just thought I'd drop in. Mail call. Got a little package for you to get to London. Where're the rest of the guys?"

"We're on our way to meet them. London sent us out to retrieve any Allied fliers that came down tonight after the Hamberg raid. We split up to cover more ground. We're due to meet them in about 10 minutes."

"We?"

"Right behind ya, Colonel," came Kinch's reply. "Good to have you back, sir."

"I'm not exactly myself, yet. Look, I've got a hot package that must get to London ASAP, then I have to get back." Turning to Kinch, Hogan shoved his flak jacket into his arms. "The film's sewn into the liner. 6 rolls. Make sure it all gets there in one piece, A-1 top priority."

"Will do Colonel." Kinch paused as the moonlight filtered through the trees and reflected off the flak jacket in his arms. Fear suddenly shot through him.Was this a trap after all? Quickly drawing his gun, Kinch pointed it at 'Hogan'. "Hands up, nice and slow. Keep them where I can see them."

"Kinch? What's up mate?" asked Newkirk.

"There's a swastika on this flak jacket. Now if you don't mind 'Colonel', step gently this way into the moonlight."

Newkirk drew his gun too as Hogan raised his arms and moved slowly into the small circle on the forest floor where the moon shone through like a spotlight. Expecting their familiar, dark haired American Colonel to be revealed, Kinch and Newkirk gasped as the light instead showed a blonde, mustached Luftwaffe Oberst.

"Von Richter? What are you doing here? I thought we sent you to London!" Kinch eyed the enemy warily.

"You guys know Von Richter?" Hogan asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

"You might not recognize us but we'd know you anywhere. Especially after you almost shot Carter trying to escape!"

"What? What happened? Is he ok?"

"Don't act so concerned you lousy Kraut. Ya know, it hurts me ta no end that you don't recall us havin' the pleasure of yer comp'ny for a couple of days 'fore we sent ya on an all-expenses paid vacation in England," replied Newkirk.

"Look, Kinch, Newkirk, it _is_ me," Hogan insisted. He had to make them believe him. "This is all a charade. I've been undercover, courtesy of Oberst Norbert. I don't know how to convince you who I am. Just about anything I tell you, you will think that I learned from my service record or an interrogation."

"'Cept our Colonel wouldn' a told ya anything," said Newkirk confidently. "How 'bout that time the three women were brought into Stalag 13 by Captain Heinrich?"

"The USO girls who were put up in Barracks 3? They were arrested when they took shelter from an infantry attack and ended up in a hidden rocket bunker east of Hoffberg. They were on their way to maximum security in Berlin and we got them out by switching places with them." 1

"That's right. Which one did you impersonate and what did you wear?"

"I was Kathy Pruitt. I wore a blonde wig, yellow sweater, a knee-length black plaid skirt, red tam, and gray raincoat. Newkirk swapped with Ginger and Lebeau was Charlene, the one who had been with the Rockettes, not the rockets," Hogan replied instantly, rolling his eyes at the last part.

"Well, you got that right at least. Newkirk, check him out," ordered Kinch. "Don't try anything stupid," he directed at Hogan.

Newkirk handed his gun to Kinch, just in case the 'Colonel' tried to make a move, and approached Hogan. First, he frisked him, relieving Hogan of his standard issue Luger. Then he moved on to Hogan's appearance. Years of working in the theatre in London had taught Newkirk a thing or two about makeup. He tugged on Hogan's hair, then pulled on his mustache, and finally poked and prodded at Hogan's face. Then he looked into Hogan's eyes.

"Well, the voice doesn't sound strained as if he's impersonating the Gov'na's voice. The hair's been dyed, roots are start'n ta show. The mustache is real but it's been dyed too. Don't know 'ow he's done it, but that face isn't makeup. But I would say it's also definitely Colonel 'ogan."

"Are you sure? How can you tell?"

"Look in his eyes, mate. There's only one man I know whose eyes twinkle like that when he's in danger. The eyes are the windows to the soul me mum always use to say," replied Newkirk, rocking back on his heels.

Stepping closer, Kinch took a good look at Hogan. On closer inspection, he could see where the facial structure was similar to his missing leader's, which made him think Newkirk was right. Then he looked Hogan in the eyes and saw the twinkle Newkirk had seen plus more. There was a brief sadness quickly masked and a tension that Kinch sometimes saw when the Colonel had just been through a difficult mission.

Holstering his own gun and handing Newkirk back his, Kinch said, "Ok, you've got me convinced. Where have you been for the last 6 weeks? We searched everywhere for you but it was like you disappeared off the face of the earth."

Lowering his hands, Hogan breathed out a sigh of relief and explained. "Norbert sedated me in the cooler and took me to a state hospital in Stuttgart where I underwent some minor surgery to get into character. When I awoke, 19 days had past and I had a whole new identity. Ever since, I've been playing Oberst Bernard Von Richter, Luftwaffe flying ace and hero of the Fatherland."

"So the hospital stay accounts for half of the time you were missing and overlaps when we were ordered to pick up Von Richter and send him to England. I assume you then went on some sort of mission to collect the film I'm holding in your flak jacket?"

"Correct. I've been stationed southeast of Coburg at a top secret airbase where I've been heading up a squadron of prototype fighter planes. I've been gathering intel and sabotaging the reports to Berlin. We were supposed to be on our last test flight tonight when we got diverted to engage the air strike over Hamberg. I knew I had the specifications London needs on the planes and being so close to Stalag 13, I thought I'd drop in on you fellows and use your post box."

"You don't trust Norbert to deliver the goods, do you?"

"Not in the least. And even more so now that I know he recruited you guys to capture the original Von Richter without London's authority. However I do still have to trust him to restore me to my natural handsome self. Speaking of which, I'll return to camp with you and borrow the radio. Norbert left me with a contact once my mission was accomplished and I'd like to return to the winning side of the war as soon as possible. If I had a nickel for every 'Heil Hitler!' I've had to do, I'd be able to retire a rich man after the war."

"We'd better get moving. We're going to be late for the rendezvous with Carter and Lebeau. I can't wait to see their faces when they see who we found!"

* * *

1. "I Look Better in Basic Black" Season 1, Episode 28 


	10. Chapter 10

_For we know we shall find_

_Our own peace of mind_

_For we have been promised a land of our own_

Colonel Robert Hogan stood at the window of his quarters looking out in the predawn light. Hogan watched the stars fade as the sky brightened beyond the barb wire fence once again. His face was still bruised, remnants of having it restored to his proper features without the benefit of a couple of weeks in a healing sleep. It looked worse that it felt but it established the cover of his extended stay with Oberst Norbert and the SS. It also meant he got to return to his men that much sooner.

Sleep had once again proven illusive in the wee hours before daylight. Flashes of the dogfight over Hamberg and of the Allied plane he shot down disturbed his dreams. He'd gotten the names of the fateful crew from London – had memorized the list, going over it in his mind until it was as easy to recall as the crew of Goldilocks or the men in Barracks 2. He'd said a prayer for all of them, one at a time, knowing it wouldn't ease his guilt but feeling the need to do something for them. He had thought of writing to the families, but there wasn't much to say. He had never met the men or served with them, only helped them die far away from home.

Hogan hated to admit it, but he had missed the place. Not the lice, the rats, and all the other touches that made Stalag 13 a hellhole to live in, but the camaraderie of the men, the Operation, the banter with Schultz and even the verbal sparring and bargaining with Klink – things that allowed him to be his normal self. These stresses he could deal with, had become comfortable with handling over the years of his imprisonment. The stress of being undercover, alone, with the threat of discovery hanging over his head, had left him appreciating the security of the team he normally operated with.

After meeting up with the boys and returning to the tunnels, Kinch had got the package off to London and Hogan used the radio to arrange a pick up in Hammelburg from Norbert's contact. He had been whisked away by Norbert's driver to the hospital in Stuttgart again, being transformed back into black haired American POW. Not once did the SS Oberst make an appearance, leaving Hogan with more questions than answers about the man. A couple of days after his surgery, Hogan was handcuffed and returned to Stalag 13 in a covered truck, surrounded by SS guards, and dumped into the compound.

By then, Kinch had gotten word from London that the plans Hogan stole were invaluable and that the Allied engineers were drooling over the schematics. Hogan had a long radio conversation with London, who had denied any knowledge of the mission and could discover no information about Norbert. Hogan had tried to take the blame for the loss of the B-17 and her crew, but London had adamantly refused to put a black mark on his record, noting a commendation instead. They also scheduled another set of bombers to take out the secret air field near Coburg after Hogan provided the coordinates.

Hogan had barely got off the radio with London when another coded message was received from an unknown location: "Hitler believes strength of land forces will provide victory. Berlin scrapping planes as unnecessary and unreliable.Von Richter awarded medal for valiant flying posthumously. N."

It was the last tag to Norbert's message that didn't sit well with Hogan's conscience. He had earned a Distinguished Flying Cross from his own Air Corps. The fact that he had technically now earned a similar medal from the Luftwaffe made him want to throw up. He sighed as he continued to contemplate the compound outside his window.

Late winter had pushed into spring while he'd been away playing 'Hero of the Fatherland'. Flowers could be seen blooming along the forest edge through the barbed wire fencing, the land awakening and nature refreshing the countryside. Hogan felt reborn too, coming back to his role as Papa Bear after his service in the Luftwaffe and regaining his physical identity.

As each star winked out in the growing daylight, Hogan gave each one a name from the bomber crew and thanked them for their sacrifice. As he put them to rest in his own mind, peace settled in his soul. Rule #1 of war is that men die. Rule #2 is that no matter how hard they try, even Colonels can't change Rule #1.

As the sun silently broke over the horizon, Hogan could hear the guards starting their rounds. Soon the call of "Raus! Raus!" from Schulz could be heard in the outer room, snapping him out of his reverie. Hogan felt the mantle of command wrap itself gently around his shoulders as he turned away from the window. With a smile on his face, he went out to face another day behind the wire of Stalag 13, for once not minding the place very much at all.


End file.
